


Best Christmas Present Ever

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, stiles is not subtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles draws Derek’s name for the pack’s Secret Santa exchange and has a brilliant idea. He’s going to get Derek to make a move whether the idiot wants to or not.</p><p>Spoiler: He totally wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Christmas Present Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qafmaniac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qafmaniac/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Best Christmas Present Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136496) by [caramel_lemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramel_lemon/pseuds/caramel_lemon)



> December fic spree, day 12: Fic for Qafmaniac!
> 
> Happy December 12!!

As Stiles lay on the floor, wildly uncomfortable and possibly getting paper cuts on portions of his body he really didn't want to think about, there were only two thoughts in his head: _is this the stupidest idea ever?_ and _this is definitely the stupidest idea ever._ He had no idea how much time had passed between when he got settled and when the loft door finally opened — he'd guess three years, just based on how sore his back was — but his sigh of relief wasn't even quiet. Relaxing, he tried to project an air of cheer and goodwill, hoping those foreign concepts would alert Derek to his location soon.

Instead, he heard Derek, under the sound of the Christmas music he'd left playing, moving around the loft: the clump of his boots on the floor, the occasionally mutters to himself, the poof of the couch as he plopped down on one of its cushions. At that last one, Stiles held his breath a little, excitement racing through him because Derek was _right there_. Surely he'd see…

But then there came the sound of a zipper and a long, low moan. 

Stiles stiffened, eyes going wide. He cursed himself and his horrible ideas, because all he could see was the plain side of the paper he'd wrapped himself in. His breath quickened to match the sound of Derek's, his pulse began to skitter, and he was pretty sure if Derek didn't _stop that right now_ , his dick would end up poking right through his gift wrapping.

When the wet sound of skin slapping skin started, Stiles couldn't hold himself back any longer. Ripping his way out of the paper, he rolled over, wide eyes landing on Derek…

Who was still fully dressed and smirking back at Stiles.

"What the hell are you doing, Stiles?"

"What… what am _I_ doing?! What were _you_ doing?! You… you were…" But Stiles blinked, because Derek was sitting with his legs splayed and there wasn't even a hint that he'd been having Happy Alone Time. "It _sounded_ like you were spanking it, okay?"

Derek smirked down at him, one judgmental eyebrow arching high on his forehead. "I figured that was the best way to get you to show yourself. Now answer my question."

Stiles fought his way out of the paper, nearly losing an eye to the fake Christmas tree as he did, then flopped on the floor, star-fishing out, not bothering to adjust himself in his underwear because, well. Fuck Derek. Let him see what he'd done. "I got your name for the pack Secret Santa."

"You were going to stay under there until the pack party tonight?!"

"What? No, that's stupid. I have a different present for you for that." Stiles waved his hand around dismissively. "But I figured, well. _You're_ too much of a chicken shit to make the first move, so I may as well— Whaaaa?" Stiles scrabbled at Derek's back as he found himself picked up and flung over Derek's shoulder. "What the fuck, dude?"

"I'm taking my present to bed. We've got five hours before the pack gets here. That's at least three hours for me, and two hours for you to pick up all the mess you made wrapping yourself up." Derek smacked a hand to Stiles' ass, jostling him with his shoulder. "You know, a tasteful bow probably would have sufficed."

" _Everyone_ does a bow. I wanted to give you something to really open." Then, staring at Derek's ass moving just below his line of sight, Stiles snuck his hands into Derek's back pockets and squeezed. "I'm actually a little surprised you're being so chill about this."

"I've been waiting," Derek flung him onto the bed, where Stiles bounced twice before settling, the room still a little spinny and spotty after being dangled upside down like that, "for you to break."

"For me to… break? What?"

"I expected you to show up naked on your birthday, to be honest."

Stiles just gaped at him. "Oh my _god_ , that was like… eight months ago! Why didn't you say anything? Why did _you_ wait so long?"

Derek reached down, touching one finger to Stiles' big toe, avoiding his gaze. "Because I couldn't be the one to… I'm a lot older than you." He shrugged, entire body throwing off discomfited vibes. "I didn't want to push anything until you were ready."

"I've been ready since you went all _get off my lawn_ on me and Scott. I was waiting for _you_ to be ready." Sitting up, Stiles snatched Derek's hand, threading their fingers together and pulling lightly until Derek crawled on the bed with him. "I should have known you were being a martyr. _Again_."

"Shut up. I was being a gentleman." Derek's voice was so disgruntled that Stiles had to smother a laugh in his shoulder. 

"Well, cut it out. I like you just the way you are. Rude and sarcastic and threatening to rip various body parts with your teeth. When you get all polite, it throws me off my game." Stiles dragged his hands up Derek's body, ending with his palms cupping Derek's face. "Now, I'm pretty sure my awesome gift deserves at least a kiss under the mistletoe."

When Derek's eyebrows drew together in confusion, Stiles nudged him and looked up pointedly. Derek craned his upper body around, eyes skating over the room before seeing the picture of mistletoe Stiles had printed out and taped to the ceiling above his bed. 

"How the hell did you get that up there?"

"Pfft, the power of my pure awesome. Oh, and don't worry about your broken lamp. I got all the glass out of the broom handle and used it to sweep up the rest of the glass from the floor." Stiles grinned wide, still pleased with himself for only doing minor damage. Derek's fucking ceilings were _tall_.

"Oh jeez." Derek dropped his head to Stiles' shoulder, sighing heavily. "I don't want to know how close you came to breaking your neck, do I?"

"I'll give you a demonstration later. Now…" He wriggled impatiently. "You mentioned something about opening your Christmas present and I'm not feeling particularly open." Of course, as soon as he said that, Stiles _heard_ what he said and felt color rush into his cheeks. "Oh god, I didn't mean—"

But Derek cut off his word vomit with his mouth, licking past Stiles' parted lips and flicking his tongue over Stiles' teeth before sliding the tip of his tongue over Stiles', which was still trying to form words in his mouth. With a groan, Stiles gave up talking and threaded his fingers in Derek's hair, glorying in finally, _finally_ , getting to do this. He rubbed his face just a little too hard against Derek's, wanting the beard burn he'd been dreaming of for _years_ , and threw himself into the kiss. Sucking lightly on Derek's tongue, he couldn't hold back a smile at the groan that action drew from deep in Derek's chest. 

They spent long minutes like that, just learning the taste of each other, their kisses turning from gentle to fierce, from fierce to slow and filthy, from filthy to gentle again before Derek finally broke off altogether to drag his tongue over the jut of Stiles' jaw and down his throat, sucking and biting all along the length of it. Before he had a chance to move lower, Stiles tugged at Derek's shirt, making impatient noises until Derek sat up and tugged it off, throwing it to the floor.

"The rest," Stiles demanded, curling up to fumble at Derek's jeans. But Derek just lightly slapped his hands away and did it himself, unbuttoning and unzipping and pushing them down his legs, only to have his face darken with irritation when he realized his boots were going to prevent him from taking them off. 

Stiles only laughed a little.

While Derek twisted around to attack the laces of his boots, Stiles sat up and draped himself across Derek's back, letting his fingers dance over every inch of bare skin he could find. It was a lot of skin. And if he started talking, telling Derek everything he'd been dreaming of Derek doing to him, well… who could blame him? Of course, it worked against him more than anything, because Derek's shaky fingers ended up snarling the laces of his left boot into a mass of knots. With a growl, and the use of a handy claw, Derek cut through the laces, much to Stiles' amusement. In seconds, Derek was finally naked, but Stiles didn't have a chance to really ogle him, because no sooner did he fling his underwear off his legs than Derek was tackling Stiles to the bed. 

With nothing but Stiles' underwear between them, the experience was a sensory overload. The crisp, thick hair that covered Derek's body scraped deliciously over Stiles' bare skin, Derek's hands large and hot on him as he dragged them over Stiles' legs, fingers finding the waistband of Stiles' underwear and carefully shredding them so the material fell to the bed beneath them.

When Stiles opened his mouth to complain, Derek's was there, capturing the words and swallowing them down. "I'll buy you a dozen new pairs later," Derek muttered, not even breaking the kiss to do so. Then, his big body shuddering, he moaned, "God, Stiles," as Stiles dragged his nails down Derek's back. 

Hands finally on Derek's perfect ass after far too long of dreaming about it, Stiles palmed his firm cheeks, gripping and pulling them apart, digging his fingertips into the crease until Derek broke their kiss, buried his face in Stiles' neck, and rolled his hips, dragging their cocks against each other. They both shouted then, and their movements became faster, sloppier. Years of pent-up frustration exploded, and Stiles forgot everything but the feel of Derek's body moving against his and the sound of Derek's name on his tongue.

But eventually, it wasn't enough. Stiles' cries went from pleased to _needy_ and apparently Derek understood because he pushed up, eyes wild and glowing blue. Pressing down on Stiles' shoulders to keep him from just _clinging_ and hanging on for the ride, Derek wrapped his hand around both their cocks as well as he could and began jacking them both, his head falling back on his shoulders. 

Mouth hanging open as pleasure rushed through him, Stiles finally got his limbs coordinated enough to help, tangling his fingers with Derek's on their cocks and fucking his hips into their joined hands, sliding his cock along Derek's. He curled his legs over Derek's hips, his heels pressing into the backs of his thick, muscular thighs, and just held on, tremors running through him as he rushed head-long toward orgasm.

But it wasn't until Derek opened his mouth over Stiles' throat, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh, that Stiles lost it. With a yell that probably shattered Derek's ear drums, Stiles came, entire body arching off the bed, lifting Derek's as well with the force of his orgasm. His come fell, wet and hot, between their bodies. With three more shaky thrusts, Derek followed suit, groaning as his cock pulsed out ropes of come across Stiles' belly, mingling their scents on his skin.

While Stiles lay there, limp and sated, Derek slithered down his body, cleaning the come off him with his tongue, then swirling it over Stiles' over-sensitive cock until Stiles had to hiss, pushing his head away. "Not yet," he groaned, "too much." But Derek didn't seem to mind, just used his unfair strength to flip Stiles' limp-noodle body over and pressed open-mouthed kisses to his lower back.

When the rest of the pack showed up for the Secret Santa exchange, Derek and Stiles could barely move, each wearing mismatched socks, Derek's shirt in-side out, and Stiles free-balling it under an old pair of Derek's sweatpants. No one else said anything, though Scott kept putting a hand over his wrinkled nose.

No one, that is, except Liam, who pointed to the mess of ripped Christmas wrapping under the tree and asked, far too innocent for a boy his age, "What's up with that?"

Derek hid a smile against the back of Stiles' neck and said, "It was the best Christmas present ever."


End file.
